Polaris
by x-Earl-Ciel-Phantomhive-x
Summary: Then the traveler in the dark,   Thanks you for your tiny spark,   He could not see which way to go,   If you did not twinkle so...


Disclaimer: I have no rights to any of the characters or products of the Invader Zim series. They belong to Jhonen Vasquez. The song 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' obviously also does not belong to me.

Author's Note: Yes, I do in fact write for a series or two other than Black Butler. That is simply my favorite. I know that people may see Invader Zim as childish, and in a way, it is, but from a different point of view, it is anything but shallow and immature. The messages and themes are deep and very mature; discrimination and judgment based on society's views of 'normal,' the feelings of stagnation, and of dysfunction. Of one who does not belong. Both of the main characters exhibit these themes, but I feel a keener connection to one of them in particular, which is why I have decided to write my first work for this series from the point of view of my favorite character. I bid you to actually read deeper into the themes portrayed by the series, as well as this work, in lieu of simply glancing at the title of the fandom, and disregarding it as 'childish.' Thank you as always, and enjoy.

Polaris

___xXx_

_Then the traveler in the dark,_

_Thanks you for your tiny spark,_

_He could not see which way to go, _

_If you did not twinkle so..._

_xXx_

Stars.

Millions and millions of tiny, sparkling lights; twinkling crystals that burn bright, that swirl and breathe and live, that flare up violently and magnificently in the prime of their existence, and for one final moment shine their brightest, expelling all that they have to achieve what they have always been meant to since their birth, before fading, disappearing, and dying out forever, the evidence of their existence forever erased, gone, forgotten. Significant, but not so; gaseous, voluminous masses that warm the air, that illuminate the darkest corners of a human's doubts, fears, their very world. Such a very significant part of that world…and yet, so displaced from it. So very far away from it, so foreign in their familiarity.

Too far to reach, no matter how far the living, breathing figures of skin and bone and tissue stretch, no matter how high they reach their spindly fingers to the heaven's. So long as their feet are firmly planted, grounded on the soil of the prison that they call home, the ball of the ball and chain called 'Earth,' they will never reach them. And so, one particular creature, one young prisoner of that gravitated world, has no choice but to get as close as he possibly can. He climbs to the highest point of the small, nearly imperceptible patch of the planet on which he resides, and he brings with him anything and everything that will help him see farther, reach higher, get closer to those floating lanterns, to those warm fireflies that flee from the sunlight, because it is too powerful for them to overcome.

The elongated tube of metal and glass is gestured toward the brightest one that he can find. After all, is that one star not rumored to lead one home? Perhaps if he can follow its direction, he too will find his way home, because whether he was born on this mass of ocean and oxygen or not, it is not his home. He does not belong here. He never has.

He contemplates this, as he observes the anomalies, flickering and dancing so close to his view, but so far from his reach. It's as if they're teasing him. He wants to go to where they are so badly…but why, he wonders? Why is it that he yearns to be so far from all that he has ever known to be real and tangible? Perhaps it is because he had always had such a disdain for that which is 'real?' And once more, he finds himself asking why this is. Why is it that he has always rejected the ideas and products of what his race, his world perceives as 'normal' and 'real?' Why has he always chosen to seek solace in that which should not exist, in what no one else wishes to acknowledge?

Perhaps it is because he himself is not 'normal?' At least not by their standards. Perhaps in seeking out that which is abnormal, paranormal, he is seeking out a niche for himself? Perhaps he believes that he can find a place amongst the missing links and the unexplained where he will not be judged? Where he will not be seen as 'abnormal,' because something abnormal amongst abnormal things is considered 'normal?'

What is 'normal,' for that matter?

It is a question with no answer.

Perhaps if what he seeks that does not exist is proven to be real, perhaps in finding that thing, he will find a reason for himself? An answer to those cruel creatures, to those cruel words like 'crazy,' and 'freak?' If what he believes exists indeed does, and that which everyone else has denied the existence of is made tangible, it will be his persecutors who are condemned? Would it be they who have been 'crazy' all along?

And what of the stars? It very well may be that such abnormalities do not exist on Earth, and even if they do, it is all too possible that, being creatures and existences of the planet that rejects him, they too will shun the bespectacled child away, refuse to give him a niche to fit into. Perhaps it is simply impossible for him to find a place that he belongs on this planet. Humans know next to nothing about the other existing planets, and far less about planets that they are ignorant even to the existence of! What is it like there? Are they different from Earth? Are the creatures different, are their lives different? Perhaps somewhere out there, _he _won't be 'different.' Perhaps there is a place that he belongs…it simply isn't _here. _Perhaps if he wishes to find this place, he will have to leave. Perhaps that has been the answer all along to why he has such a passion for the worlds beyond his reach.

Was that the reason why he was so overjoyed by the arrival of the little green anomaly on that insignificant day in that insignificant room? Was it not because the creature was proof that he was not unstable, but because he was proof that that place that he seeks may in fact truly exist? That there may actually be a place for him somewhere. How would they see him there? Would he be 'normal?' Would he be accepted? Would he be small, or large, or strong, or weak? And what of the green child? What of his planet? What was it like on the barren, underground-mecca that was _his_ home? How was one viewed as 'successful' there? By his enemy's opinion, it seemed to be that being an Invader was of the utmost importance to his species. Then, how was Zim seen, himself? He was an Invader. Did that mean that he was revered? Respected? Was he praised and worshipped?

Was he accepted?

…a strange, covertly-obvious thought caught the night-wind, rushing to the youth's reddened ears and opening his mind to an entirely different possibility. Another question, this time with an answer. How long had Zim been on Earth? On the fateful day of his arrival, Dib had been eleven. He was now closing in on sixteen. Five years. Five years the creature had been here, had been working to destroy the only home that he had ever not known…and the thought that gave him pause was not the usual. He did not ask himself why he hasn't succeeded in destroying the alien yet. He did not ask himself what the alien is waiting for. Instead, he realizes in that brief expanse of time, a thought that would break the little mass of discolored flesh and God knows what else he is made of into little pieces; a thought that would hurt not only his pride, but his heart, if he even had one.

It has been five years, and Zim has made no progress whatsoever.

What gives the black-clad youth pause about this is not the alien's failure in terms of his mission, for he has been aware now for several years that Zim is incapable of actually destroying the planet, not due to lack of skill, but due to his eccentric ways and his refusal to acknowledge the simple reactions to his impossibly over-the-top actions. What gives him pause is the question of whether or not, in his case, Zim is indeed considered a successful Invader. If he has not yet completed his mission, nay, if he has _failed_ in his mission, then is he not considered a failure in terms of an Invader? Dib does not know, but still he wonders. This is not Zim's home. This is a place that he had traveled to in order to find his niche. The only difference between them is that Zim is seeking a niche on his own home planet, and succeeding in his mission here is the only way that he can attain it. What if he succeeds? What if he fails? What if he has already failed?

What do the residents of his real home planet see him as? Is he a hero? Is he a soldier? Is he a genius? Is he an idiot? Is he a criminal?

…is he…_defective_?

…is…is that how Dib…sees _himself? _As _'defective…?' _

He is desperately seeking acceptance, seeking a place to belong amongst the twinkling eyes gazing down on him, beckoning him to leave the ignorant behind and to rise up to explore the unknown, that which is feared because it is foreign. Why can he only find that place there? Why is there no place on the planet on which he was born that he belongs? Is it because he is 'abnormal?' Is it because he is 'defective?' Are those two words one meaning, the only difference between them being the planets on which they are used…? Another thought, this time overt, extremely loud and incredibly close, close enough for the scrawny child to seehearsmelltaste_touch_, close enough to wash over him and frighten him and unnerve him and give him a satisfaction all the same…

…are he and Zim…the same…?

Two failures seeking success? Two defectives of their own races, seeking to be accepted?

The boy pauses, the chilly night air giving gaseous form to his breathe, his thin fingers growing stiff and tingling from the temperature. It was time to retreat inside, he knew, but he did not want to go. He never wanted to go. He wanted to stay up here forever, as close as he could be to the last possibility of his happiness. He gathers his man-made instruments that will never get him close enough, because they are made by creatures that cannot get close enough themselves, and gives the star that he would follow to the ends of existence one last glance, his mind gracing the subject with one last thought.

Perhaps he and Zim are more alike that he or the other would care to admit…

But he does not know. He cannot know, until he knows exactly what Zim is, in terms of his own people. If Dib could find Irk, he would know. If he wants the answer to this question, to any of his questions, then he will have to leave, because he cannot find them here. He could never find anything here.

He will do it. If it takes him years, decades, his entire lifetime, he will find them. He will build what he needs with his own two hands if he has to, because it is the only thing in the world that he wants. He wants to leave, to search, to find, to succeed…

He concedes that if he wants to find his answer, he will have to go out _there._

_xXx_

_As your bright and tiny spark,_

_Lights the traveler in the dark,_

_Though I know not what you are,_

_Twinkle, twinkle, little star..._

_xXx_


End file.
